When the Rain Stops
by QuizzicallyQuixotic
Summary: Garth/OC When an injured woman flees to Brightwood Tower to escape slavers, she is helped by the enchanting scholar who dwells there. "'When the rain stops,' he said after a moment. 'You can stay until the rain stops.'"


I think I was dead before I fell.

From a distance, I can hear his haggard breaths, his gasps. I try to turn my head to him, but it is in vain. My killer. My friend.

Almost too quickly, my senses begin fading. The sweet burnt smell of my flesh under my uniform, the cold wetness of the Spire's walls around me, the sound of his breathing, the pain- it all goes too fast.

Everything always goes too fast.

-

"And this was brought to us straight from Bowerstone, richest town in Albion." The slave trader was pointing at me. With every fiber of my being, I found myself praying that he would lean just a bit closer to my cage. If he were closer, I could have grabbed his gun and blown his head off in a second.

"Let's see'er." The grimy man said, leaning toward the bars. His teeth, covered in a ghastly mossy film, were wiped over with a blackened tongue. Grinning at me, he poked his head closer to my rackety prison. "Allo, luv." He was repugnant. _Come a little closer_. My gaze fell over him, searching for anything on his person that could cause bodily harm. Unfortunately, he had no weapons on him, save for a small dagger at his belt. The slaver would have shot me dead before I could have blinked if I were only armed with that. Begrudgingly, I glared at my potential buyer. He laughed. "Lookit 'er," the man wheezed, blowing his vile breath into my face. His hand moved quickly catching up my hair in an instant.

"She's a blonde!" He exclaimed, tugging at my curls until my face was pressed against the bars. "She ain't very pretty though, is she? Le's see wot else she's got." His hand moved toward my corset, and his fingers twitched toward the cords that bound it shut. Panic stricken, I reached forward grabbing blindly for his knife. Hands appeared and wrenched at my arms, ripping me away.

It was then that I realized the slaver's gun was right next to my hand.

A feral scream erupted from my chest. I grabbed for his pistol, clawing at flesh with my other hand. My first shot caught my potential buyer in the groin. That was an accident, although a satisfying one. I wish I'd had the chance to fire a second shot through the slave trader's head, but something struck me behind the ear. I don't believe I've ever been hit so hard in my life.

I vaguely recall being dragged from my cage, and even more vaguely the feeling of metal against the back of my skull. I think it was a pistol, maybe the one I stole. In the fuzz of my mind, I heard a small click. What I did not hear, was the ensuing crack that should have ended my life. The fog that held around my mind was slowly clearing; too slowly. Weakly I fought back, kicking wildly rearward. My foot connected with something soft. Crying out, I flung my arms out in all directions. Pain shot through my fingers as I tore my nails, but that pain was more than enough to bring my haze into clarity. The bandits had surrounded me, writhing about into nothing more than a mass of faces and clawing arms.

My hand fell to the ground next to me striking against some object. Praise Avo! it was a pistol. I gripped it tightly, brought it up toward the disgusting mass, and squeezed the trigger. Their cries grew angrier and they snatched at my hair. A hand squeezed about my wrist. It twisted until I heard the sickening pops from my bone. I pulled the trigger again and again and again. And I ran.

They chased after me like lions hunting a deer. Gun blasts echoed around me, and trees and plants exploded near my body. Oh Avo, I wanted to live! My feet carried me through the forests, pretty flowers tangling about my toes. Tree limbs beat my arms. With another gun crack, something bit deep into my calf, I fell forward crying out. With a breath full of dirt, I choked and coughed. Whimpering, I scrambled to my feet, limping more than running through those treacherous woods.

A large tower sprouted from the cover of the trees, beautiful and foreboding. Scrambling toward it, I found myself cursing in my mind. Under the guard of the stone walls, I moved as quickly as my bare and bleeding feet would allow me. Having made it up the first flight of stairs and tripping midway up the second, I simply laid where I fell. Exhausted, I grew still and quiet. So quiet that I thought I might have slipped into a world separate from the real one. Shouting echoed around me, but must have imagined the slavers coming toward my hiding place. No one came for me.

At least an hour must have passed before I finally worked up the courage to move again. A sharp pain tore through my right leg, and I had to bite my lip to keep from screaming. Whimpering, I pulled up my torn skirt. My leg was a mess. A bullet had ripped through my calf, leaving a large hole. Blood hardly seeped through the torn skin, but it was enough to induce cold sweat. My throat felt slippery, and my stomach was churning in a threatening manner. I pressed my hand to my mouth flattening my skirt back in place. Blood was everywhere on me. It oozed through large cuts upon my soles and out of large scrapes on my hands and elbow. The hand on my mouth tasted like copper.

I think I blacked out.

The very next thing I could remember was a lovely sinking feeling. The surface underneath me was wonderfully soft. Turning my head inward to my pillow, I breathed in its musty smell. The three weeks past, I had had only splintered wood to sleep upon. Without thinking, I turned upon my side. Nasty flickers of pain coursed over my body like an electric current. Wincing, I screwed my eyes tightly closed. With a hiss, I propped myself up on my elbows and opened my eyes.

The room was large and, except for the bed I was occupying, completely empty. Grey light streamed through windows, casting odd shadows upon the floor. The walls were the same cobbled kind I had remembered seeing in my refuge. Withdrawing a breath, I turned my body so that my legs dangled over the bed. To test the strength of my right leg, I pressed my toes upon the floor. It still hurt, but to my sick delight I found the biting tenderness to be much better than what it had been the first night. With a shuddering breath, I pulled up my skirt to reveal clean, neat bandages.

My brows stitched as I dropped my skirt. Amazement ballooned inside of me, and I found myself searching over my various other injuries. Some small whelps and scratches remained uncovered, but many bandages littered my body. Even my fingers had been carefully wrapped up with cloth. Sliding off the bed, I took the slow steps toward one of the windows.

A light, misty rain had covered the forest. The sun, hardly visible over the clouds, shined weakly through droplets of rain. It was the kind of weather that made rainbows. Wetting my lower lip, I tiptoed tenderly on my left foot, craning my neck to see outside. As soon as I had begun searching for rainbows, however, the rain increased violently. Summer rains tended to behave like that.

"You're awake."

Startled, the balls of my feet pounded back against the floor. Covering my mouth to conceal my whimper, I turned my head to face the voice's origin.

The man stood a short distance away from me, eying me. He was quite a bit older than me, with dark-skin and silver white hair. I winced, taking a step back. At this he smirked, extending his hands. "It's all right; I'm not going to hurt you." He was dressed differently than other men; rather than breeches, coats, stockings, and buckled shoes that men from Bowerstone were so fond of, he wore pants and a blue vest-sleeveless jacket combination. He took no steps toward me, merely looked over.

"What's your name?" He asked in a gruff voice. His tone was pleasant though; perhaps to calm me down.

My mouth opened, but to my horror, no words would come. My bandaged fingers trailed from my face to my throat. Like a fish, my mouth opened and closed, but still would produce no sound. My body was rigid, and my throat had tightened. Face growing hot, I turned away from him. Something, some magic had stolen my voice away. Avo! I was so frightened.

Still he did not move toward me, and the world grew quiet again.

"When the rain stops," He said after a moment. "You can stay until the rain stops."

-

Leaning over the sparkling clear water I pulled a decent stone from the bottom of the river. In my other hand was a jagged mirror I had found on the paths of Brightwood. Carefully, I began rubbing the stone upon the edges of the mirror and continued on my way. The forest was much more beautiful since I had been traveling through it than my first night. By the end of my first few days in Brightwood I had memorized the main pathways throughout. By the time I had found that mirror, I knew the entire forest like the back of my hand.

And in the unlikely event that I did happen to get lost, the Tower was always easy to find.

A light sprinkle had started up, and a grey mist began rolling around me. _Down by the reeds, down by the reeds, swim the sirens of Oakvale out to the seas. _Singing the tune cheerily in my mind, I quickened my pace. _Down by the reeds,_ I had strayed a bit farther from the Tower than I usually did. _Down by the reeds.._ By starting a run, I made it back just as the hard rains began pounding.

"Did you have fun?" My host asked as I entered his study. Panting, I put my hand against the wall to support myself. My head craned to stare up at him just as I had doubled over. Several books had been taken from his many bookshelves and placed upon his alchemy table. He leaned over them; a fingertip marked the place he stopped reading at when I came in. _I should have knocked_. With a nod, I brought my hand to my hair and pushed it back. He chuckled.

I liked it when I made him laugh, but it happened so rarely.

My head bowed, and I edged backwards and out of the study. Garth, the scholar who had let me stay with him until the rain stopped, was always too nice to me to tell me when he was busy. Because he had said that I could stay with him until the rain stopped. The summer was lovely because rainstorms came and went in a quick cycle. The first time I had stayed with Garth, the rain stopped early the next morning. However, the same afternoon, it had started again.

He seemed surprised when I wandered back into the Tower a second time.

I thought that I would make him dinner. Noting that Garth often forgot to eat when he was deep within his studies, I bought a recipe book from a drifting trader. Unfortunately, no matter how frequently I tried to cook a decent meal, a recipe book could not turn me into a brilliant chef. Pulling my book from the bottom shelf, I turned to a recipe for stew.

The smells were adequate when I left the stew to simmer. Sighing, I eased myself into a chair Garth had put out for me. Flicking through my recipe book I began to think of the man in the Tower's study. He was so very thoughtful. He let me take a few of his books I liked and keep them on my bottom shelf. He never expected any answers from me, but talked to me idly nonetheless. Placing the recipe book face down in my lap, I pulled my mirror and stone from my pocket. The edges were already smooth, but I still wanted to give it a circular shape. Slowly rubbing the rock around the mirror, I allowed my gaze to trail to the rain outside. The summer would have been gone in just a few short weeks, and the rain would finally stop. That thought in and of itself was maddeningly sad.

"You're making stew." He came down when darkness had set, looking toward the fireplace. Although it was not a question, I nodded all the same. He moved slowly across the room, leaning his head over the pot. "Should I be worried?" He asked, looking back at me over his shoulder. My answer was a shrug. He looked back toward the pot, and I could feel the heat on my cheeks as I wondered what sort of expression he was making.

He walked back to his chair, sitting without another word. Placing the mirror upon my lap, I took up my recipe book. The book was moved in front of my face so that I could steal glances at him without his notice.

I could have watched him forever.

Watching him breath slowly as he looked over a book enchanted me. Perhaps it was that he was so quiet.. and still, so separate from my world. He did not move at all while reading. Past the glass over his left eye, I could not even see the flicker of his eyes as they passed over written word. Avo! and how I wished my voice would return so we could speak with each other. Alas, it would not, and so we sat in our worlds of silence with nothing but the crackling of fire between us.

"It smells like it's burning," he finally said.

Horrified, I jumped up and ran toward the pot. My hand touched the scalding pot handle before I heard my mirror shatter behind me. Gasping I pulled back, clutching my burnt hand. Garth was next to me in a moment. "Let me see," He held out his hand.

My face grew hot again, and I could feel myself shaking. My hand moved on its own, hovering just above his. "You'll be alright." He stepped away from me, and I withdrew a halting breath. Gripping a rag, I lifted the heavy pot handle and swirled a ladle about the stew. It just needed to be stirred, after all that!

Closing it again, I turned around and flinched at what I saw. Garth had bent down, plucking up the largest of my mirror fragments. He held one out to me and I turned my head away. It was supposed to be a gift for him once I made it beautiful. I had no use for mirrors. He smiled at me and stood.

"Are you not pleased with the way you look?" I flinched at his question, my hands balled into fists at my side. Avo! he was torturing me. Cruel, cruel man. My stare darted quickly between the glass in his hand and the wall. "You won't look?" He was a horrible person. Taking his hand up in mine, I pulled the mirror up to eye level.

My dirt-blonde curls, perhaps if they had not been as thin as mouse hair, would have been more attractive. My eyes were squinted, and the brown hue matched the color of horse dung. _This is why I don't look in mirrors_. I wanted to tell him. My nose was too small and my lips pinched together. Avo! if only I had been exaggerating.

Garth placed the mirror in my hand, returning to his chair. Rolling it in my hands, I ran my fingers along its edge. My intentions as I walked toward the stairs were to find a broom to sweep up the broken shards remaining upon the floor. However, as I reached the bottom stairs, my pitiless, wonderful scholar called me back to my chair. I sat, rolling the mirror in my hand before noticing what was off.

The shard of mirror Garth had given to me was completely round.

I looked up at him, feeling my wordless lips part. He did not look at me. He just sat, silently reading over his book. Maybe, I reasoned, maybe he had meant to give a mirror to me as a gift. My heart pounded in my chest cavity. Avo! if the mirror was a gift, then I had been terribly rude. Not knowing of how to make amends, I stood again and went to pour the stew.

I handed him a bowl over his book, willing him with all my might to forgive me. He took it without a word, but that was not unusual. Through my anxiety, however, I believe I managed to twist the situation into something that it wasn't. After taking my chair, I cautiously tasted my soup; it wasn't as terrible as usual. Thank Avo for the little things. Somehow, I didn't think Garth was even trying it.

Pulling out the mirror again, I stuck it fast to the collar of my shirt. My makeshift brooch sat just below my throat, reflecting the light from the fire as a small circle across the room. Garth's head bobbed slightly, and it rose just a little as the light passed. I placed my fingers against the mirror so as to attract attention and turned so that he could see my charming piece of jewelry.

He laughed at me.

Feeling forgiven at least, I turned my attention back to my stew. The corners of my lips were twitching upwards, and I smiled at him. I think.. it was the first time I'd ever smiled at him. He brought his spoon to his mouth, and grimaced a bit as he chewed its contents. _I thought _at least_ that it didn't taste as terrible as usual._

"It seems," my enchanting scholar said thoughtfully after forcing a swallow. "This rainstorm will last a while."

-

Autumn was maddeningly dry. Winter offered biting snowstorms. Spring grew to be a large disappointment with it's few and far spread showers. To make up for the severe lack of rain, I had taken to arriving at the Tower anytime the weather included some form of water in the air. Summer did not fail me though, and once the constant rainstorms had arrived again, I could stay in the Tower as long as I wanted.

Bending over the cauldron, I prodded warily at its bubbling contents with a ladle. In response, my stew hissed at me. My nose wrinkled, and I closed the lid. Taking my knife from my side, I went to slice the bread. As I turned, I gasped and stepped back.

Garth surprised me.

"Be careful," he warned. Offering a nod, I tucked a loose curl behind me ear and tucked away my knife as well. Strolling back toward the table, I grabbed up my recipe book. The recipe I had chosen was difficult, but I was very proud of how well it was turning out. The last thing was to cook the meat and add it to the broth, and at last I could present a decent meal to my host. My gaze drifted to the table, and my stomach immediately felt sick; the trader I'd bought the ingredients from had forgotten to give me the meat.

With a soundless groan, I stamped my foot. Placing my hand on the table, my gaze turned to Garth. He looked at me curiously, though said nothing. My fingertip marked the missing ingredient from the recipe, and Garth chuckled as he read. Face growing hot, I handed the scholar the ladle. Throwing my coat about my shoulders, I tucked the book into my pocket.

"Should I accompany you?"

Smiling, I shook my head. Garth was a gentleman, of course. Motioning toward the cauldron, I made stirring motions with my hands. His expression remained serious, "Just hurry back before it burns." His hand moved thoughtfully to his goatee as he glanced at the pot. "Although that may be an improvement."

My nose was thrust upwards indignantly before I waved a farewell.

Trying to re-find a traveling trader turned out to be nearly impossible. Even though I searched the paths of Brightwood thoroughly, he was simply nowhere to be found. With a sigh, I turned my direction back toward the Tower. Somehow, I must have deigned to be an awful cook for my entire life.

"Well, 'allo, 'allo, 'allo there."

I turned my head toward the voice. A trader stood nearby, stooped over with his luggage. "Lookin' to buy suthin'?" He grinned at me. The bag on his back, I noticed, was filled with the clothing to sell. Not at all useful, but even if he had been carrying the stock I needed.. Something in his eyes made the hair on the back of my neck raise. There was no thought that guided my hand as it brushed the handle of my knife and definitely there was no thought as I turned away from the man. My gaze darted toward the tower, and I began a quick paced walk. My stride, however, grew faster as I began to hear his footsteps trail behind me. The tower was close, but I couldn't call for help if the man..

He was still tromping loudly behind me. My fingers wrapped tightly about the knife's handle, eyes locked upon the tower. _Avo! I can't call for help._ His footsteps were so obnoxiously loud, and as if to make it worse, he began whistling. My stride was still a fast walk; I was afraid to run. Afraid he'd chase me like a lion after a deer.

"C'mere, luvvie. I'll take ye back to wotever town ye be headin' to. T'ain't safe for a young lady to be walkin' about alone." His speech was slurred, and I could smell that tell-tale scent wafting off of him. Avo! He was drunk! He grabbed at me. The moment I felt his hand brush my arm however, I pulled it out of the way. He laughed as I stumbled from the momentum. It was a vicious laugh, hoarse and malignant. Not at all like the laugh I had been used to hearing for the past months. Something heavy dropped behind me, but I did not look to see what it was. Praying that the words would come, I opened my mouth. Only my quickly increasing breaths came from my throat.

He must have seen my knife or something else on me that set him off, because without warning he lunged forward. Until he was on top of me, I didn't even know he'd gotten closer. He held me down, tongue protruding from his open mouth as he leaned toward my face. Squirming and struggling, I managed to free my hand. Pressing it against his face, I forced him back with all my strength. He was stronger than me. Panicked, I clawed and drew blood. Avo! I was so close to the Tower! As he moved to restrain me, I moved my knee upwards with as much force as I could manage. His groan was enough to know I'd hit home. It took a lot of wriggling, but I freed myself from under him. Struggling to my feet, I ran a few yards forward. Stupidly, I stared back at him as he stood, and it cost me. My foot caught against a tree root, and I stumbled backward into something solid.

Garth surprised me.

My wonderful, fantastic scholar pulled me around and behind him. My hands grasped at the back of his vest, and I clung to him. Peering carefully around Garth, I saw my assailant had yet to move at all. His face was twisted horrifically, and ever so red. He cursed at us, but did not move an inch. He was scared! Garth turned and began walking, keeping me in front of him until we made it back to the Tower.

He didn't talk very much the rest of the evening, although that was not outside the norm. Lunch was eaten in silence, and immediately after eating, he left for his study. My fingers twisted through my hair each time I glanced up the stairs. Breathing in sharply, I finally stood to follow him. As always, he was at his alchemy table.

Before I could rap upon the door frame, he canted his head toward my direction and motioned me inside. I did not enter, not right away. Little vials littered his table, bubbling and sparkling prettily. When Garth had motioned a second time, I came into the study. Cautiously, I walked toward the table, but I could not help but maintain a few feet's distance.

"It's alright," Garth said, adding a liquid into one of the sparkling vials. Red colored gas floated into the air as the two liquids collided. "Nothing over here will hurt you."

Breathing in deeply, I nodded and stepped beside him. It was somehow peaceful to watch him work. Occasionally, he would pause to jot something down or thumb through a book. Such a human and I were truly within separate worlds.

"Would you like to try?" He asked after a while. Mixing unknown chemicals together was not my idea of safe, but I found myself nodding.. hesitantly. He stepped back, motioning for me to take his place. I did, and he took mine. The vials looked a little differently from straight ahead, even more dangerous when Garth handed one to me.

My free hand slid Garth's notebook closer, and quickly I looked over his notes. Oh Avo! I could hardly understand what he had written. I looked at the scholar, feeling my expression contort into something probably unpleasant. He only nodded toward his notes. It would take a very long and awkward number of minutes before I discovered a side-note that called for copper wire to be placed within the liquid. Reaching for a piece of wire and dropping it in the vial, I squished my eyes closed expectantly. Garth took the vial back and placed it upon the table.

At that moment I wanted so much to touch him that my heart almost burst from my chest. I had always 'liked' him; since the first day I discovered that he had helped me. As summer waned, it became a little more. The feelings I had when I was near him, security, peace, happiness. I didn't mind as much when he went up to his study for hours, but I couldn't wait for him to come back down. I didn't mind that the time we spent together was mostly quiet. I enjoyed reading books he liked, and went out of my way to decipher his moods and feelings. Avo, if I could have told him how I felt.

"Look."

My gaze returned to my vial, and I jumped a bit. Tiny beads of silver were growing on my wire. I had turned copper into silver! My hand darted out to grab for the entire cluster of copper wire, but Garth took my wrist, chucking. A playful scowl etched into my face, or at least I hoped it looked playful.

That night, Garth taught me how copper could become silver and how to create simple healing medicines. It was also the last night I would ever spend with Garth.

-

I had never been in an explosion before.

The side of my head was sticky and warm. Groaning, I pushed myself up on my hands. Avo! who would want to attack the Tower? My fingers delicately touched my hair. The fire that scorched around me provided more than enough light to see the blood. A sound like a cough and a cry escaped me as I staggered to my feet. _Garth._ He was upstairs, somewhere. Like a newborn foal I stumbled toward my shelf.

The slavers' pistol was exactly where I had left it the summer before.

After taking it from its keep-place, I unloaded the bullets into my hand. There were still two left. My hands wouldn't move right, and it took far too long to reload my weapon. The men attacking our Tower were still unorganized. The blast that knocked me into the wall had given me a hiding place, and they hadn't found me yet. Breathing in, I pressed the barrel against my lips. With two bullets, I'd have to pray I could be stealthy enough to avoid our attackers. _Avo_, I prayed, _Avo please let Garth be okay._

As quietly as I could, I moved toward the stairs. Two men stood guard, chatting together. Silently, I moved behind the staircase. The pistol was tucked into my belt, both my hands then extending upwards to grip the wooden stairs. My limbs ached from the strain of pulling up my weight, but I managed to slide on top of the step. Instead of pausing to breathe, I stood and withdrew my pistol. Quiet as a temple mouse, I tip-toed up the stairs.

Garth was in his study, but to my horror, he was surrounded by those fiends. Drawing my gun, I took aim. Before I had a chance to empty my chamber into the back of two unlucky men's head something very amazing happened. Shining rods materialized over my scholar's head. In an instant they flew forward, piercing the dark clad attackers through their hearts. They all dropped dead where they stood.

My heart pounding, I stared at my scholar. The glowing blue light of the arcane etched deep within his skin had suddenly appeared. My lips parted as I pulled my pistol down to my side. _Oh, Garth._ He was a will-user, of all things! Someone who knew ancient, Old-Kingdom spells, and I had witnessed _magic!_

He ignored my shock, walking quickly forward to take up my elbow. "Let's get out of here," he growled lowly, pulling me toward the stairs. Neither of us expected the second blast.

I was thrown back into Garth's alchemy table, glass alchemy equipment shattering under my weight. I felt no pain, only a digging sensation in my back. My pistol was still clutched tight within my hand, but I could not move. Opening my eyes, I saw that Garth had been thrown toward the balcony. He stood quickly, summoning the glowing rods over his head. A man, nay I would find out later that he was not a man, strolled easily into my line of vision. He was tall, clad in black just as the other attackers had been. Horns sprouted wildly and jagged over his pale head, and his mouth had been covered by a dark mask; a real demon.

"I'm never going back there! You hear me?" Garth's face held more rage than I had ever seen. Later, much later, I would find out that the man who controlled the demon wanted to take Garth to his prison to keep him out of his way.

"You're wrong," the demon said coldly. His voice was forceful, frightening. All my concentration went into moving my hand. Aiming, I squeezed the trigger. My shot caught the demon in the back, but I would not celebrate. He cocked his head back, glancing at me over his shoulder with pupil-less eyes. My armed hand dropped, and I could not gather the energy to move it again. I looked down at my body, and terror rose up my throat. A bloodstained alchemy glass had pierced through my body and poked out my chest. Avo!

"Stop!" Garth ordered. I never found out who he was talking to.

The demon laughed, his attention falling back upon Garth. So many thoughts raced through my mind, and all of them ended with my death. _Garth._ I wouldn't let the demon touch him, not so long as I had one bullet left. Panting, I took aim once more. My last bullet hit the demon straight in the head. He growled, extending an arm toward me.

The last sight I had of Garth was blocked by a bright blue light.

-

The walls of the Tattered Spire were cold and suffocating. My new uniform made it worse. It was made for a man with muscles, and the girth of the outfit gave me a deceiving masculine appearance. The worst part of my new wardrobe however was the mask; I could hardly breathe under it.

An endless amount of time passed under the prison's walls. I never knew why the demon had let me live, or given me a position of guard within the Spire. However, I was still alive, and as far as I knew, so was Garth.

"You. The Commandant wants to see you," A fellow guard called, walking up to me. With a salute, I began my trek to the Commandant's chambers. My first few years within the Spire, my visits with the Commandant had been filled with terrifying emotions. Though the fear of the Commandant remained, I had developed a sense of loyalty to him. Obedience was key.

"Recruit 197," The Commandant turned to face me as I entered his chambers. I bowed. The Commandant's inhuman appearance was not so much of a surprise as it had been the first night I saw him at the Tower, but I still could not keep my gaze from straying up to his horns. "I have a new task for you. You're next duty will be to guard the upper tier. Construction is to begin there tomorrow and we cannot have any careless slaves upsetting the site. Use force when needed." He held out a cutlass and pistol, which I took gladly. In another moment, a small medical satchel was passed on to me.

I bowed again and took my leave.

Unlike me, my enchanting mage was a prisoner, not a guard. Avo! how I'd hoped the Commandant would slip and post me near him. I never was, but I still kept wishing. It was all I could do.

My fingers brushed against the large, crystalline collar about my neck. The Commandant's warning had been more than enough: _You will do everything I tell you without question. Failure to obey will cause the device around your neck to activate. This is not a pleasant experience. You will lose your willpower. Your memories and experiences will be drained away. This will continue until you submit._ I did not have the courage to test it, and I did not require proof. The other guards offered plenty of evidence of what the collars could do.

I did not want to forget.

My post inside the construction site was a lonely one that left my mind free to wander back to Brightwood. Garth, I felt, would not be trapped within the Spire forever. The man who controlled the demons within the Spire's walls had been afraid of him. My scholar was destined to do something wonderful. I.. however.. hoped he would find me and take me away from here too. I longed to return to the Tower, back to the quiet rainy days we spent there.

I wish my voice would have worked. I had had so many things I wanted to tell Garth the day before we were taken to the Spire. _My name first_. I mused. _And second that I thought I may have been in-_

My thoughts were cut off by a torrent of lightening zipping through my body. I hadn't even heard him behind me.

-

Garth's voice echoes about the construction site. I do not see him, but I recognize his voice. It hasn't changed. If only I could move a little. I think he is talking to someone else, helping whoever it is to escape. Hands take away the weapons the Commandant supplied me, and footsteps fall farther and farther away. My lips do not form the smile that reflects my perverse, dying mood.

I think, in a way, I have helped him escape. It's better too, I think, that I decided to wear my mask today. It's more peaceful if Garth can leave the Spire having only killed one guard.

I wonder if it is raining in Brightwood today.


End file.
